


Flesh and Bone

by DarlingRed



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Natasha Romanov, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, Natasha and Steve’s bromance, Set during Winter Soldier, gives me life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-06 02:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12808050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarlingRed/pseuds/DarlingRed
Summary: Set after the scene in Winter Soldier after they find Zola.While on the run from Shield and Hydra, Natasha is reminded that Captain America is still human and could use a gentle hand from time to time too





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so just a brief one shot I worked on during my boughts of insomnia. I loved Natasha and Steve’s friendship so I’m working on a few one shots that explores that. And angst and h/c because that’s just who I am as a person.

The rubble continued to rain down on them; Natasha ducked and held as close to Steve as she dared, listening to him scream and he took on the weight of the building on the shield.  
She could barely breath, the dust swarming around them and the chunks of the ancient building assaulting them for what seemed like an eternity. She wasn’t sure if he could hold it, she kept her head down and tried to keep what debris off of his left side as possible.

  
Natasha wasn’t sure how long she kept her head tucked against his chest before the dust settled. The only sound was Steve’s ragged breathing, straining against the weight above him.

  
“Don’t move,” she heard him gasp when she dared to lift her head.

“Keep down, I’ve gotta try to get this off us.” She nodded, hoping he could feel it because she didn’t dare speak, wasn’t even if she could at this point, the air thick with dust and stale air of the vent they had sot refuge in.

  
The former Russian spy heard the mess above them to start to move as Steve grunted and moved his shield to the side, something came down hard on her head and she thats the last thing she remembered.

———————————————————————————————  
She woke up to being cradled against a strong chest, which in the grand scheme of things, isn't the worse way to wake up and she had definitely woke up in worse shape. But the man in question was struggling, and the woods they were apparently in was hot and muggy.

Her head hurt.

  
“Rogers?” She murmured, tapping his shoulder to let him know about her wakefulness. “Put me down, I'm alright.”

“Tasha? Thank god,’ she heard him whisper roughly, stopping and carefully setting her down. “You got hit on the head pretty damn hard.”

  
Natasha chuckled, probing the tender lump on her temple with a slight wince, “What can I say, I have a hard head.”

“We’ve got about a mile too left before we reach any type of store. I tossed our phones at the site, theres no way shield isn't tracking them.”

  
Nat nodded her agreement straightening and wiping as much dust off herself as possible. She catalogued her movements, the cuts and bruises, the places that will hurt worse tomorrow.

All things considered, she was ridiculously lucky. It was when she turned her attention away from herself that she noticed how Steve was holding himself; the Shield was on the wrong arm, the line between his brows was thick and pronounced and his skin was an covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Rogers, whats wrong?’ Immediately the agent straightened, her attention focused on her partner. Her friend.  
Steve grimaced at her tone, his face falling to what he must have thought looked like an easy smile but failed terribly.

“I’m fine, I’ll heal. Now we need to get out of the open as fast as possible,” Steve went to walk by her, completely brushing the other agent off, which did not set well with the other, who spun around and grabbed him roughly by the arm his shield use called its home.

  
Steve let out a loud gasp, his teeth clenched as Tasha gripped his arm.  
She flicked her gaze from the arm to his tightly closed eyes, his brow furrowed in pain as he turned to face away from her, as if she couldn’t tell if he did so.

“Take off your jacket Rogers,’ she demanded, leaving no room for disobedience.

“Nat-“ he stopped short when Steve finally turned to see her face.

Steve dropped the shield with a sigh, one arm out of his jacket but the other still hanging limp by his side. He stopped, closed his eyes and carefully pulled the offending jacket off him, letting it hit the ground.

“Now sit before you fall over, ‘ demanded Natasha, his voice hard but her eyes betrayed her concern. Seeing him like this; it just reminded the assassin how young Steve Rogers really was; 1918 he was born.

He was only 29 years old. But there he was, his arm limp at his side and his under shirt stained red, the only thing giving away his pain and discomfort was his eyes, large and tired. Too tired for someone his age.

“I thought you were the one injured Nat,” he joked, his voice strained as she knelt beside him, reaching out to touch him.

Romanov smiled tightly; “Trust me when I say I’ve had worse,’ she rolled up his sleeve ignoring the way he flinched away from her gentle touch. “Ok bare with me Rogers.” She had a sinking suspicion on what the problem was but she hoped she was wrong.

Natasha carefully prodded the point where the shoulder met the joint, pressing firmly in the depression she saw there.

“Shit!” Howled Steve, jerked away and cradling his arm as Natasha put her hands up, non threatening.

“Your arm is dislocated Rogers,” she said, her voice tense with worry. Rogers already looked too pale. How long had it been since he had eaten?

She had seen the man put away buckets of food to keep up with his super soldier metabolism, but they’d be on the run for nearly 24 hours now and nowhere to stop to refuel.

“Hey,’ Natasha whispered gently, pushing back a few stray hairs stuck to his temple, drenched in grime, dust and sweat as he panted lightly.

Any other person would have been on the ground, passed out from pain she thought grimly as she catalogued the myriad of bruises and lacerations all in varying state of healing. “I can fix this Rogers ok?”

Steve nodded tightly, already gritting his teeth and letting a grim chuckle pass his lips, “I tried to put it back myself after we were clear. It already started healing, and I heard a chopper. I just...haven’t had time. I’m sorry Nat.”

Clucking her tongue gently she shook her head and took the jacket he had dropped to the forest floor and put it into a ball.

Gesturing to the ground, Natasha had him lay back, the jacket cushioning his head. She was never this gentle with anyone; except maybe Barton. But Steve was too good, he hadn’t been touched by her past, the ugliness of the world.

And he tried so hard to put on a brave front, enough for the rest of the world that he was a 21 year old discarded soldier. Forgotten besides his heroic past. He needed her.

“Ok champ,’ smiling, trying to relax the man next to her as she knelt down and took his limp hand in her own, bending at the elbow gently, “I’m not going to count ok? It’ll just make you tense up. So I want you to breath deeply, in and out, in and out...”

In. Out. In. Out.

Natasha let the mantra regulate her breathing and she quickly pulled on his arm, pushing her feet into the forest floor to gain traction.

Steve’s face crumbled as he brought up his hand to mouth, stifling a scream that tore past his lips as a loud pop signaled the relocation of his shoulder joint; his body rolling away from the red head in an attempt to alleviate his pain.

Before she could stop herself, Natasha had his head in her lap, leaves sticking to both of them as she stroked his hair and he gulped air like a fish out of water.

“Thank you,” he sputtered, his uninjured arm reaching up and grabbing her hand.

She smiled thinly, taking the offered hand before replying, “We need to find some place safe.”

Steve nodded in agreement his head still cradled in the Widow’s lap.

“I know a guy.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, please don’t ever try to relocate your shoulder by yourself kids. I googled this at 3 am so that goes on my list of weird things I search for when writing


End file.
